Read through my thoughts as I write them while I stare blank at the mirror humans call Life.

Choices

When people ask me to define love, I say, "Love is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart, and trusting them to never pull the trigger." (Sponge Bob)

When they ask me why I laugh at my mistakes and even write them with pride in my blogs, I say, "I'm not crazy. I just don't give a damn!" (Daffy Duck)

When one time I was conducting a group activity, a student asked what road sign I love the most, I said, "I like dead end signs. I think they're kind. They at least have the decency to let you know you're going nowhere…" (Bugs Bunny)

And when for the nth time a friend would ask me what do I get from writing, I'm not even sure if there are good old souls out there visiting my site, I just smile and say, "Kung gusto mong maging manunulat, eh di magsulat ka. Simple." (Bob Ong)

And last night when Eva said she wants to quit from her work because nobody believes in her, her boss got mad at her, she doesn't even have friends at her agency, and she's crying like hell, I said, "Either you stay to prove your worth or you quit and just show them you're a loser, you have to strive for your happiness." (MY original)

My CHOICES: I remained believing in love. I continued spicing up my mistakes and rewriting my life, accepting failure but keep on dreaming until words would fade into thin air.

Nov 20, 2007

A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan.

While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.

Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of the Lord Jesus Christ. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.

Two weeks later, I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I have treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, “Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by twenty-six armed guards.”

At this, I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said, “No Sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone.”

At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened.

The missionary told the congregation the date and the man who interrupted told him this story:

“On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go and play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met me on that day stand up?”

The men who had met together that day stood up. The missionary wasn’t concerned with who they were – he was too busy counting how many men he saw. There were twenty-six.

After reading the story from a compilation of cut-outs courtesy of Ma'am Alma, I literally had goosebumps and my head seemed to be so heavy with hair. Ah! Angels! As a child, I have always believed in them. Not because my mother used to tell me a lot of stories about them but because I had several encounters with them, too. Usually in my dreams. Dejavu! Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing is for sure, I believe in angels and all other miracles, great and small in this bivouac men call life.